Culpability
by JeVeuxReves
Summary: During Wrapped Up in Death, Castle hits his head and gets seriously injured when Beckett rigged his chair. Submission for Castle winter 2015 Hiatus Ficathon.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: So this is a fill for a hiatus ficathon prompt: "During Wrapped Up in Death, Castle hits his head and gets seriously injured when Beckett rigged his chair." I think this is probably not exactly what you wanted, Anon, but this fic, such as it is, is where my mind went. Buckle up, kids, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.**

She was going to owe him coffee for _months_ for this. _Years_. And even if he did accept her profuse apologies, she had no doubt that he was never going to let her hear the end of it. A small, reasonable part of her that she very much wanted to ignore argued that she had no one to blame but herself. She rationalized that the nagging little voice was _always_ on Castle's side and really didn't understand how much of an irritating man-child he could be, even if he did get her dad's watch fixed for her and spend _one hundred thousand dollars_ to set up the sting that caught Dick Coonan, knowing that he would never get that money back.

Millionaires.

No, she wasn't going to live this down for a very long time. Even if Castle _did_ stop lording the fact that she rigged the chair over her head, she had no doubt that Ryan and Esposito wouldn't be content if they didn't get to rib her at least a little about the way she had screamed for someone to call an ambulance _now._ She'd seen the blood pooling around his head in a macabre halo and panicked, in front of everyone, had insisted on accompanying him to the hospital.

With nothing but the bland, white-washed walls of the waiting room and a cup of impressively bad coffee to occupy her, she kind of wished she hadn't, but she was here now and had little choice but to make the best of it until they finished with him.

She had to admit that she was glad that no one but the EMT was a witness to the scene in the back of the ambulance. She'd been on the phone with his mother when he'd come to, telling Martha what happened and what hospital they were headed to, and had been so relieved to see those blue eyes open that she'd actually _sobbed_ his name. She didn't think she could get through hearing Ryan and Espo calling him 'Castle! Thank God!' for a week without shooting one or both of them.

He'd been groggy and more than half out of it when they'd arrived, and they'd immediately taken him back to stitch up the gash in the back of his head. She'd been relegated to the waiting room where she'd resigned herself to the task of greeting his family.

"Katherine!" Alexis was jogging up to her, Martha close behind. His favorite redheads looked frantic, and she stood, prepared to do damage control.

Alexis was paler than usual. "How is he?"

The guilt that had been nagging at her since Castle went limp in the precinct doubled. She hadn't meant to injure him, and she certainly hadn't meant to worry his family. "He's okay." She assured them quickly. "His chair collapsed and he hit his head. He's probably got a concussion, but he's going to be fine." She didn't mention that she had helped the chair towards its untimely demise, figuring that she should probably make her apologies to Castle before she doled them out to his mother and daughter.

"Oh thank God." Martha pressed a hand to her chest and sank into a chair. Alexis contented herself with a relieved sigh, the tension dissipating from her shoulders.

"He'll probably put us up in a hotel tonight, to protect us from the _mummy's curse_." The teenager said, half a smile on her face as she dropped into a chair beside her grandmother.

It was exactly the kind of grand precaution Castle would take to keep them safe, and, not for the first time, she was struck by how much these two women meant to him. She had described him once as a nine year old on a sugar rush, and while she stuck by that claim, she also knew him well enough to know that it wasn't the only side of him. He was a good son, and she had never seen a more devoted father. That guilt pulled at her again, but Castle's doctor walked through the double doors before she could open her mouth to release it. "You seem to have multiplied since I saw you last."

"How's dad? Can we see him?" Alexis, Beckett could tell, was the kind of person who never truly believed anything until she saw it with her own eyes. She could relate.

"He's concussed, but he's going to be okay." The man, Dr. Selsby, his badge read, confirmed her guess. "We had to give him six stitches, and we're going to keep him overnight, just to keep an eye on him. He seems a little confused. He kept talking about a mummy?" She wouldn't want to play poker with this guy. She was sure the amusement was written on Martha and Alexis' faces as clearly as it was on hers and he didn't even blink.

"That's actually pretty normal for him." She admitted, making a mental note to tell Kev and Javi to back off on the curse. This had been a bit _too_ close a call.

"Well, he could be disoriented and easily tired for a while until the concussion goes away, but he's in room 378 if you want to see him." Dr. Selsby assured them.

"Thank you." They headed off towards the elevator, and Beckett watched them go, hesitating. They were worried about him, and she really didn't want to get in the way. "Katherine?" Martha paused, waiting for her.

"I really should get back to the precinct..."

"Nonsense. Richard will want to see you." Martha crossed the distance between them and linked her arm through Beckett's. "I insist."

Castle's mother was a formidable woman, and really, what could she say to that? She allowed his mother to steer her to the elevator and onto the third floor.

Alexis had gone up ahead and she was already wrapped in her father's arms by the time they reached his room. "Don't _scare_ me like that!" Beckett leaned against the doorway while his daughter read him an impressive lecture about the importance of being careful and tried not to laugh. Castle listened solemnly the whole time, his face a mask of composure until she finished and hugged him again, planting a kiss to his cheek.

He, in turn, pressed one to the top of her head. "Sorry Pumpk'n." He mumbled, his words just barely slurred. "Didn' mean t'worry you."

"I certainly hope not." Martha leaned down to kiss his other cheek, wrapping her hands around one of his. "Don't do that to us again, Kiddo." They made such a perfect little tableau, Castle and his two redheads, and suddenly, she felt out of place, a third wheel to this tiny, happy family.

"Yes M'ther." Castle caught her gaze, brought her into the fold with a bemused look, and she approached him herself.

"I can't stay long. I have to tell the precinct that we haven't gotten rid of you yet, but... Castle that chair collapsed-"

"I know." He interrupted her, leaning back against the bed and blinking slowly. "Dumped me. Need t'get better chairs 'round there. M'ther, 'Lexis, think I need a nap. B'careful, Beckett."

She could tell him about the unfortunate prank later, once he'd gotten some rest. "Yeah... get better, Castle. Can't let me go without a headache for too long."

She didn't have to suffer as much ribbing as she had expected when she returned to the precinct. The boys had picked up a suspect in her absence, and after assuring them that Castle would live to drive her insane for another day, she got right down to business. Mr. Te alibi'd out, but they got a juicy little morsel in the form of their vic's girlfriend.

She finished at the precinct too late to go see him, but she'd shortened her suspect list and lined up and interrogation for Rachel Walters the following morning, so she allowed herself the satisfaction of a good day's work as she headed back home to her new apartment in the West Village, and set an early alarm.

It was just past eight when she stepped out of the elevator onto the hospital's third floor with a coffee in either hand to the sound of someone shouting. She followed the shrill voice along the hall, watching the room numbers increase as she approached. At room 342, she recognized the voice as Martha's. By room 357, she could make out the words.

" _... incompetent! If you had bothered to check all of this yesterday like you're supposed to, this wouldn't be happening! You slacked off on your duty and **my son** is the one who paid the price!" _ She rounded the last corner at a run and saw that Martha had backed the doctor from the day before into a corner, shaking as she screamed. Standing just behind her, tugging desperately at her elbow was her granddaughter.

"Alexis!" The teen turned and barreled into her, wrapping thin arms tight around her waist. Her face was buried in Beckett's shoulder, but she had seen the expression on the girl's too-pale face, the redness in her eyes. _Oh God_. "Alexis, what happened to Castle?" She asked. She could hear the fear in her own voice, a perfect match to the dread that was crawling up her spine.

The answer came in a voice that broke. "Dad isn't waking up."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note: So, disclaimer time. I have no doubt that at some point, someone is going to tell me I'm doing this wrong and educate me on head injuries and medical science, so I'm going to go ahead and say this now: the only knowledge I have of the medical field is what I was able to get off of Google. I am not twisting my story to fit medical science. I am twisting medical science to fit my story. I apologize for any inconsistencies and beg that my dear readers be kind enough to overlook my ignorance. Additionally, I hope that you can forgive me for switching tenses from the last chapter. The words come easier in the present-tense, apparently. Onward.**

He'd once gone off on an hour-long rant about what he'd called 'writer-tropes.' These, he defined as staples that _everyone_ used in certain situations. One of the tropes he'd mentioned specifically was the 'hospital = wraith effect,' where just the act of injuring a character suddenly turned them "sunken" and "frail." He'd said the words just like that, using honest-to-god air quotes, his eyes rolling to the heavens before he'd summarily denounced the trope as unoriginal and inaccurate.

He doesn't look small or fragile. He looks like Castle sleeping, and she doesn't know if it would be better or worse if he _did_ look like some small, breakable thing. As it is, half of her expects him to wake up and tell her he knows who the killer is. The other half wonders if he'll ever wake up again.

The MRI revealed the swelling in his brain. He'd been awake and relatively cognitive when he'd arrived, so no one had done a more thorough examination. Of course they hadn't: it had been a concussion, a few stitches. Concussed people going comatose if they slept for too long is supposed to be a _myth_. His doctor explained that, because they'd gotten him treated so quickly, the swelling hadn't reached its peak until after he'd fallen asleep. It had sounded a lot less like medical science and more like ass-covering to her, but she'll have to ask Lanie's opinion before making accusations.

The evaluation of what they were dealing with sounded a lot less like damage control. Castle had slept all night, and no one was sure exactly when he'd gone into a coma, or how long it had been before they realized what happened. As a result, there's no way to tell if there will be any damage to his brain.

Alexis had cried, her face buried in her father's shoulder, arms wrapped around his broad chest. It wasn't the first time that it hit Beckett how much Meredith was a non-entity in the teenager's life, but it was the hardest time it hit her. Martha and Castle were all Alexis had, and now she might lose him, and it's all her fault.

She did this.

Martha has taken Alexis back to the loft to get them fresh clothes and something to eat after they'd secured a promise that Beckett would stay with him until they return, just in case he woke.

For a long time, she sits there, studying his familiar features, her fingertips inches away from his hand, but unable to _quite_ bring herself to breach the distance. It is during this time that the afternoon shift arrives. The new nurse, a short haired woman in her mid-fifties, breezes into the room and neatly prints her name on the whiteboard attached to the wall. "You know, they say coma patients can sometimes hear you."

"Yeah, I've heard that before too." She agrees, offering a smile that feels like a lie.

"And if he can't," the woman continues, briskly looking over his chart and checking his vitals, "it might make you feel better."

"Maybe." She offers, but it has no conviction.

"Could be worth a shot." The woman - Kate glances at the whiteboard to read the name – Rita, is already headed for the door, tossing a question directed to Castle's prone form over her shoulder. "What do you think, Handsome? Don't you wanna hear all the stuff she's not telling you?" She's gone almost before she finishes asking.

Beckett eyes the closed door, then looks back at Castle. She supposes she could try... "Castle, um... look, if you can hear me, I... this is stupid." Silence falls and reigns unbroken, save for sporadic beeps from the machine he's wired into.

Long minutes pass before she clears her throat and tries again. "I'd never have gotten this close without you. My mother's case, Coonan's connection... I wouldn't have known anything if you hadn't looked into it. Now this. I owe you a lot, Castle, and you should know I don't like being indebted to people. So you have to wake up, because... . Because Alexis and Martha need you, and because... I need to pay you back for all you've done for me, and because I want to read the next Nikki Heat book."

She wraps her fingers around his hand, absently brushing her thumb over his knuckles. "You don't know it, but _Flowers For Your Grave_ is the last thing my mom ever gave me. That book... it got me through losing her. You even signed it, back when I was a beat cop. I bet you don't remember that." She does. She'd stood in line in the rain, was drenched by the time it was her turn and she could hand him a battered copy of _Flowers For Your Grave_ instead of his newest bestseller. He'd asked her about it, and she'd given him some vague non-answer to avoid getting too personal.

She doesn't mind personal so much right now, doesn't mind anything, so long as this isn't permanent "So you have to wake up, okay? Because if you don't, what'll get me through losing you? What will Martha and Alexis do? You're so important to them... and to me. You're important to me too, Castle. My partner. So just... just wake up, okay? Please." She presses her forehead to the back of his hand, her breath hitching, and a part of her honestly expects him to wake.

He doesn't.

By the time his family returns, she's more or less regained her composure and has been informed that there's now a lost mummy that she has to deal with. Alexis bursts into the room with a wild kind of hope in her eyes. "Any change?"

"No." She says, and a little part of her dies with the hope in his daughter's face. Both his redheads are taking this hard, but Alexis is no better at hiding her emotions than her father is. Martha at least has her acting to fall back on.

She wonders what betrayal will look like when she tells them what she did. Once again, she's overwhelmed by the feeling that she doesn't fit here, with his family. She stands abruptly, shoving her hands into her pockets so they can't see her fingers trembling. "I really have to get back to this case. Let me know if anything changes, okay?"

"I'll call you." Martha promises, and from her knowing expression, Beckett thinks that there must be evidence of tears on her face.

If that evidence is still there when she gets back to the 12th, Ryan and Espo elect not to notice. They also don't ask about Castle, figuring correctly that if she had good news to share she wouldn't wait for prompting. She throws herself into the case, seeking distraction in the logical progression from one lead to another, but it's Esposito who refills her coffee cup and there's no one to build theory with or to wax poetic about curses or conspiracy theories. Arresting Stanford Raynes doesn't feel like a victory.

She forgets sometimes how well her team knows her, but when they get Raynes back to the 12th and hand him over to LT for processing, she finds Lanie leaning against her desk, jacket draped over her arm.

A hand lands on her shoulder and squeezes. Javi's voice is uncharacteristically gentle. "C'mon. We'll buy you a drink."

"No." She shakes her head. "I need to get back and see how he's doing."

"Beckett, they haven't called. You know how he's doing. What can you do for him that's not already being done?" There's no malice in Ryan's question, but it feels like a blow anyway.

"If it was Javi there, would I ask you to leave him?" She demands, intentionally hurtful because she is hurting.

Ryan and Espo avert their gazes, but Lanie calls her out. "Of course you would, or are you tellin' me that you'd let Kevin put himself through that?" She has no answer to that. Lanie is right and they all know it. "Come on. We could all use that drink."

"I don't want a drink!" She snaps, her voice high and loud to her own ears. "I want... I just want..." She trails off, whether it's because she's unable or unwilling to continue the sentence, she doesn't know.

"Oh Honey..." She lets Lanie pull her into a hug. "Castle's going to be okay."

"What if he's not?" She asks, trusting her best friend with the fear she hasn't been able to give voice to until now.

"He is." Beckett wishes she felt as confident as the ME sounds. "Now come on. You need a break."

McSorley's is a personal favorite of most of the 12th, and Castle has apparently made more friends that she realized, because it seems like Ryan and Espo are fielding questions from every patron in the bar. By the time she's finished her first drink, they're both scowling, and for the first time, it occurs to her that she's not the only person at this table who is feeling his absence and worrying about him.

She feels selfish, and the guilt overflows, pours out of her mouth without her consent. "I rigged the chair." She says, interrupting Ryan in the middle of some anecdote about his girlfriend. She stares resolutely into her glass, unwilling to meet the accusing looks she's sure they're giving her. "It was just supposed to be a prank. I didn't mean..."

"Of course you didn't." Espo's reply is immediate. "We know that."

"We set up the coffee machine to do a little exploding." That's Ryan, smiling sheepishly. "It was an accident, Beckett. You couldn't have predicted it and you can't blame yourself."

She does, though. "What am I going to tell Martha and Alexis?" She turns to Lanie, who gives her a sad kind of smile.

"The truth. They'll understand."

She doesn't know about that, and apparently Javi agrees with her. "Woah, hold on. You can't just come out and tell them about that kind of thing. I'd keep it to myself."

"Javi!" Lanie is appalled. "That's his family. Don't you think they deserve to know?"

"They do." Ryan agrees. "But maybe not right now. It would probably be easier to hear once this is all over, don't you think?"

They all look at Beckett, who isn't paying attention to any of them. She's turned towards the inner corner of the booth they're in, her phone pressed to her ear. "Okay. Thanks." She hangs up and tucks her phone into her pocket. "That was Martha, and I have to go. Castle's awake."


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed, followed, and faved. You keep me writing, and I am loving the enthusiasm this fic is getting. Keep it coming. I thrive on your reviews. And your tears, but we'll get to those later. Stay tuned below.**

For whatever reason, they always end up sitting on the floor, despite the fact that there's a perfectly serviceable couch right next to them. There's some symbolism or a metaphor to be found in there somewhere, but she's not the writer. He is.

Or he was. She's no so sure anymore.

"You're _sure_ he was slurring his words before he fell asleep?"

"Yes." She repeats it for the thousandth time. "What does it matter, Lanie?"

"It matters because they shouldn't have let him sleep if he was. That's indicative of... his condition."

She's on her third glass of wine – or it is her fourth? - but the dodge doesn't escape her notice. "You can say it. _Brain damage_." She's already desensitized to the phrase, and she smiles wryly, finishes whatever glass this is. "I ruined his life."

"Honey, you didn't. Castle's going to be okay." It's been Lanie's catchphrase all evening.

But the ME hadn't been at the hospital. She hadn't seen him. "He can barely talk- "

"-Which he can relearn-"

She ignores her friend. "-and his hands... his motor skills are all but gone."

"Which he can also relearn." Lanie finishes. "Sweetie, his life isn't ruined. This is just a setback."

"And I asked him if I could stay at the loft!" She exclaims, half in horror, remembering the mostly one-sided conversation she'd had with him the day before. "God, what am I going to tell him?"

"The truth." Lanie's response is immediate.

"He'll hate me." A year ago, that wouldn't have been such a bad thing, but it's different now. _He's_ different.

"No he won't. The man is crazy about you, and as much as you try to deny it, you're crazy about him."

"Lanie!" She's appalled. "That's the furthest thing from my mind right now."

"Mhmm." Lanie hums disbelievingly. "Then why'd you ask to stay at his place?"

"Because," Kate pours herself another glass of wine, emptying the bottle. "I got him into this. At the very least, I owe it to him to help him get out."

"Kate, you owe him the truth." Lanie says, and she nods her agreement. She so does.

"He's getting released tomorrow night. I'll tell him then."

The following evening, she meets him outside the hospital, a duffel full of clothes in her trunk. He's wearing a t-shirt and jeans, a ball cap pulled low over his head to hide the worst of the bandages wrapped around it. The stitches are gone, which is an improvement, but there's still so far to go. "Bect." He says when he sees her, and then he scowls, glaring at his hands as though they're to blame. They're curled into loose fists at his sides, and slowly, he uncurls the fingers of one hand. It takes almost a full minute for him to count to five. "Kate. Hi." They're two of the words that fit into his reduced vocabulary, though her multi-syllabic surname is still beyond him.

She hates the way her name sounds on his lips, but she forces a smile. "Hey Castle. I heard they're unleashing you on the world today." She keeps her voice light, like nothing is wrong. Everything in his life has just changed, so she tries very hard not to let the way she treats him be any different. He nods and settles in beside her, leaning against her car as they wait for Martha and Alexis to finish signing him out. She casts around for a safe topic, anything to break the uncomfortable silence. "You're sure it's okay if I stay at the loft?"

He nods.

"You're probably really ready to go home, huh?" It's been five days, nearly a full week since the incident. All she gets is a shrug. So much for putting him in a good mood before she told him. "Castle, there's somet-"

"We're all done Darling." Martha trills as she and Alexis come outside.

Alexis snuggles into his side immediately. She's stuck to him like a burr all week. "You ready to go home, Dad?"

" _Yes_." His voice is full of mock relief, and the grin on his face comes as a surprise. She loads him and his family into her car and navigates Midtown traffic while redheads fill the car with inane chatter.

Castle contributes sporadically to the rapid conversation, and while he sounds enthusiastic, he looks anything but. At Alexis' request, they make a pit stop at Remy's to pick up celebratory burgers, but when they arrive at the lost, Castle doesn't stick around to eat. He disappears into his room, closing the door quietly behind him and leaving a nervous kind of silence in his wake.

"He's probably just tired." Martha says, though with her face strained with worry, no one is fooled. "I know _I_ am."

Beckett's not quite convinced, but rather than say anything, she just focuses on her dinner and lets his family follow her lead. Once the food's gone, Alexis yawns. "I'm with you, Grams. I've got a mountain of homework and then I'm going to bed. Night, Detective Beckett."

It reminds her of a conversation she'd once had with Castle. _Can't you just say night?_

 _I'm a writer. Night is boring. Until tomorrow is more... hopeful._

"Until tomorrow, Alexis." She doesn't know exactly what she's hoping for, and the words feel foreign leaving her lips, but Castle's daughter smiles brightly at her before heading upstairs, and that makes it worth it.

"She really looks up to you, you know." Martha tells her as they clean up.

Beckett just hopes Alexis will feel the same way after she finds out the truth. "She's an incredible kid."

"She has an incredible father." Martha smiles, but it's watery and unconvincing.

"Martha, he's going to make it through this." It feels disconcerting to be parroting Lanie's words to his mother.

"I know. My son is a strong man. Goodnight Katherine."

"Night." Beckett watches his mother disappear to her room and eyes the leftover burger. She really should make sure Castle eats something.

He's not in his room. He's in his bathroom, half-sprawled on the floor between the bathtub and the toilet. She doesn't have to ask him what's wrong: his hand is curled around his stomach and he looks vaguely green. She leans against the doorway. "You know, when I was a rookie, I was chasing down a suspect and he turned around and tackled me. My trainer got him off of me, but I had a pretty nasty concussion. I was nauseous for two weeks. Burgers are probably a bit too rich, huh?" The weak groan he gives her is answer enough and she crosses the distance between them, gripping him by the bicep to help maneuver him to his feet. "Toast, I think. It's easier to keep down."

She herds him into the kitchen and sits him at his counter. "Lexs?" He asks, waving an arm in the direction of where in his cabinets the bread is hiding.

She gets it out and pops a piece into the toaster, goes on a hunt for butter while it heats. "She's upstairs. I think they're both tired." She spreads butter over the toast and sets the plate in front of him.

He tears it apart, and getting the pieces to his mouth is clearly a struggle. She wants to help, starts forward to do exactly that, but he raises his eyes to glare at her and it brings her up short. _Let me do this_. She makes tea instead, bustling around his kitchen and ostensibly _not_ paying attention to what he's doing. By the time the tea is ready, torn little pieces of toast are littering the counter where he'd dropped them and a few still sit on the plate, ignored. His color is a little better though, so she doesn't try to make him finish it.

Instead, she just hands him a cup of chamomile and cleans up, businesslike. "Sorry." He apologizes as she dumps what's left of his meager meal into the trash. It's so unexpected that she almost drops the plate into the bin with it.

"Don't... don't apologize to me." _Never to me._ She can't meet his eyes right now, so she distracts herself by washing the plate and putting it away. They drink their tea in silence, mostly because his language is highly limited and she has no idea how to put what she wants to say into words without making a mess of it. She tries anyway. "Castle... you're going to get through this you know."

"I know." He says, and it comes out cheerful.

She bites her lip, derailed because he shouldn't have to do that. He should be focused on recovering, not faking happy. "You don't have to do that. Pretend around me, I mean, like you do with them." She waves a hand vaguely towards the stairs.

"I know." He says again, but it's softer, and this time he sounds like he believes it.

"But I-"

"Bect. _Kate_." He stops her again, looks towards his bedroom. "T... tom..." He scowls, his fingers doing that slow curl and uncurl again.

"Tom... tomorrow?" She guesses, and he nods, looking relieved. She knows the feeling, and it makes her burn with shame that she's so willing to put this off for even another day. She agrees anyway. "Tomorrow then." She follows him into his room and he lets her take his watch off and set it on the nightstand after a few failed attempts.

He catches her hand before she can pull it back, and his fingers are tangled awkwardly with hers, but when she meets his eyes, she honestly forgets about the contact. "Thanks." He says it casually, but the gratitude on his face is nowhere near casual, and she stumbles back a step, physically withdrawing from him before she catches herself.

"Always." She says, and then, "I'll see you in the morning." She flips the light off and rushes out of the room, gets as far as the couch before her breath starts to hitch, and she sinks down onto the cushions, choking on the lump in her throat. She just meant it to be a joke. She hadn't wanted to hurt him. She didn't want _this_. He doesn't deserve this.

 **Author's Note (Cont): We've officially finished fulfilling the basis of my prompt, which means that next chapter, we can move on to the gooey, nougaty center of the fic. I would say it only goes up from here, but I'm not that nice. I _am_ nice enough to update soon. Please press the review button and tell me how much you loathe me for doing this to Castle. **


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note: Sorry it took so long, but this chapter did. Not. Want. To. Be. Written. It has fought me every step of the way, and I'm still not entirely happy with it, but I felt it necessary to the plot, so it's getting included whether it's kind of crappy or not. I'll update again soon, and hopefully the next chapter will be more in the realm of what you, my dear readers, deserve. Big stuff coming up.**

Beckett wakes up to the smell of coffee that's a much higher quality than hers and the realization that she fell asleep on Castle's couch. She sits up, looking blearily around and somehow it doesn't surprise her to find Alexis sitting at the counter reading the newspaper. "Morning." She yawns and goes straight for the coffee.

"Morning Detective Beckett." Alexis responds absently, and it sounds like kind of a mouthful.

"You can drop the 'detective' if you want," she offers, "and call me Beckett like Castle does, or just Kate."

"Oh. Thanks Kate." That earns her a smile, albeit a somewhat sheepish one.

She returns it warmly and takes a sip of coffee, then a second and third. "God, that's amazing. Anything interesting in there?" She nods to the paper.

"Bobby Mann is dead." Bobby Mann is a well known talk show host. Or he had been, at least.

"Murdered?"

"Heart attack." Alexis replies. "Dad was actually supposed to be on his show last night to talk about _Heat Wave_."

Castle chooses that moment to emerge from his room, as if summoned by the very mention of him. He shuffles over to them on half-awake feet, his hands tucked into the pockets of his robe. "M... Mor- ning." He presses a kiss to Alexis' crown, then rests his chin on it to see the paper.

"Morning Dad. You feeling okay?" He nods against her scalp and she sets the article down so he can see it easier. "It's crazy isn't it? You would have been one of his last guests."

He doesn't reply, frowning at the headline while he mulls something over. "Kate."

"Yeah?" He's watching her with tired eyes and hair that sticks up in all different directions and he looks dopey and kind of adorable all at once. She busies her hands with pouring him a cup of coffee before they do something crazy like run through his bed head. The urge is under control when she sets the cup by the paper, but the moment's gone because Castle's attention is on his phone anyway.

He has it laid out on the counter and is navigating it carefully with just his shaky, uncertain index finger. She schools herself in patience while he painstakingly closes each app he doesn't mean to open until he gets to the app he did: his email. She's finished her coffee and poured herself another cup by the time he's found the one he's looking for, and he pushes his phone across the counter to her so she can read it.

 _Bobby,_

 _This is Rick Castle. I'm sorry to do this to you on such short notice, but I'm not going to be able to put in that guest appearance on Friday because of some health issues I'm dealing with. I'll give you an exclusive on Naked Heat when I finish it to make it up to you. Again, I'm sorry. _

_Rick_

Of course he knew the guy personally. Castle knows all their famous dead people. Beckett rolls her eyes before moving on to the reply.

 _Sorry to hear that, Rick. There was something that I wanted to discuss with you that I couldn't talk about with anyone else._

 _I doubt we'll be able to reschedule._

 _Bob_

He's watching her expectantly when she looks back at him, and she doesn't get it. He can't be blaming her for this guy being mad that he didn't do the interview, because he doesn't know it was her fault. She really has to tell him about that. Today. She will, but it still doesn't explain what about this has his attention. Her blank look must annoy him because he taps his phone urgently, like there's something in the email she missed. "Castle, whatever you're going for here, I'm not getting it." She says apologetically.

He frowns and looks back at his phone, trying to put the words together. "Not dead." He says finally.

"He's not?" Alexis picks up the paper, scanning the article again.

"What, do you think he faked his death?" Beckett asks, only half serious. It's exactly the kind of thing Castle would believe.

"No. Not _him._ " Castle tries to explain. "Not _dead_..." He leaves it open ended, like there's more to say, some distinction she's missing. He reaches for her and presses his fingers against her hip, right on the waistline of the shorts she wore to bed, where she usually keeps her badge, and she understands.

"You think he was murdered?"

"Yes."

That throws her. "Castle, the guy had a heart attack, and he's got the history of heart problems to back it up. What makes you think he was murdered?" Castle taps his phone again. _I doubt we'll be able to reschedule_. "Seriously? Don't you think he was just mad because you canceled on him? I know these rich and famous types. They're not good at hearing 'no.'" Then, remembering that he _is_ a best-seller, "Oh. Sorry."

"No, that's pretty accurate." Alexis smiles sweetly, the picture of innocence.

Castle spares her a wounded look and then frowns at his phone. "Kate. Please."

Dammit. Damn _him_. He knows perfectly well that she's not going to refuse him anything right now, and he's using that to get what he wants. Why else would he be wearing that boyish, hopeful expression? No. No, that's not fair. She grudgingly reminds herself that he'd saved her life, and the lives of Agent Shaw and her team because she listened to him when he told her that he would have written the story differently. She'd trusted him enough to go into that building with only him for backup. He's trusting her to have the same faith in him now. "...Okay. I'll call Lanie."

"Thanks." That gratitude is back on his face and she hunts down her phone to avoid it, dialing the ME and putting it on speakerphone.

"Kate?" Lanie picks up on the second ring.

"Hey Lanie. I need a favor. Bobby Mann is dead, and I need you to do the autopsy."

"Girl, do you know how many favors I'll have to call in to get that body? For a guy who died of a heart attack?" Lanie asks, indignant. "You'd better have a good reason for this."

Not really. "Castle has a hunch."

"Honey..." Her friend's voice is suddenly gentle. "Castle has brain damage, and you told me yourself that no one knows yet what that's done to his intellect. Just because you feel guilty doesn't mean-"

"Just do it, will you?" Kate snaps, both to shut her up and because she doesn't like the expression on either of her companions' faces. Alexis looks like she might cry. Castle just looks... broken.

"Fine, but you owe me." There's silence when the call ends, but it doesn't last long.

"Good morning." Never before has Beckett appreciated his mother's ability to make an entrance. "I'm afraid I can't stick around too long. I have a breakfast date with Chet at this incredible little cafe right outside of Soho where we..."

Beckett goes in search of a shower to avoid having to talk to them.

For a week, she's felt raw and nervous. The only way to make the feeling go away, she knows, is to tell him. It's just that it's such a big confession that she wants it to be at the right time, and she wants to give him time to process the information before she tells his family.

She only hopes that they can forgive her. They're so protective of Castle, and she doesn't want to burn this bridge.

There's a fresh new voicemail from Lanie on her phone when she gets out of the shower, and she dresses in a hurry and rushes downstairs to share the news with Castle. He's holding his cup of coffee between trembling fingers and staring blankly at the wall. The loft's other inhabitants are nowhere to be found. "Where are Martha and Alexis?"

"Out." He says, and then a hopeless kind of rage comes over his face and he throws the coffee cup and drops his head into his hands as it shatters against the wall. She doesn't know what to do, what to say to make this better, so she says nothing and hunts up a rag to wipe the coffee off the wall, stepping carefully around the ceramic shards on the floor. "She's... right." He says suddenly, miserably.

"Who? Lanie?"

"Yes."

"Actually, she isn't. You are. Bobby Mann was murdered. I have to go into the precinct to get started on the case." The words are out of her mouth before she starts collecting the fragments of what had once been a coffee cup, before she realizes it had once been an _NYPD coffee cup_ that he must have smuggled out of the 12th. She regrets them instantly. "Castle... you're going to come back. Maybe not right now, but you will." She'll make sure of it.

"Might." He responds, that hopelessness still in his voice.

She doesn't know how to fix this, so she's silent while she finishes cleaning up. "I really have to get into work. You'll be okay here?"

"Yeah."

"I'll be back as soon as I can." She promises, and then heads out the door, feeling like the lowest creature on the planet.


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: I know this took forever. Please don't hate me. Also, props to you, dear readers. Castle absolutely shouldn't have been left alone like that, and I apologize for being irresponsible with him, but I was trying to set up this chapter. Reviews are love.**

The 12th is exactly the same as it always has been: lousy with cops and smelling vaguely of take out and metal. She doesn't know why that surprises her, but it does. Grimly, she reminds herself that just because _he's_ different doesn't mean the nature of the job is. Murderers still have to be caught, justice still has to be found for the victims, and today it's Bobby Mann's turn.

Espo is putting together the beginnings of a murder board and he pauses when he sees her, dry erase marker hovering over the surface. "Hey. How're you holding up?"

She doesn't honestly know how to answer that question. She's not sure if she's making it through or barely holding together. She settles for "Okay."

"Castle?"

"Less okay."

Espo grimaces. "I'm guessing he didn't take it well when you told him?"

"it's not that. It's just... he's not adjusting well." She says, thinking of the shattered mug, then, shamefully, "I haven't told him yet."

Esposito considers that. "I wouldn't tell him at all."

"You've said that already."

It must come out harsher than she thought, because he looks chagrined. "Beckett, what's telling him going to do? It's not going to change what happened and it won't help him recover. All it will do is-"

"Can we focus on the murder please?" She asks, and this time, she means it to be exactly as harsh as it sounds. She's fully aware of what she's inviting by telling Castle the truth, and she doesn't need a reminder. Espo goes wordlessly back to the murder board and she's both grateful and regretful. For all his posturing, he's not a cruel person, and she knows that his advice isn't coming from a place of malice. She's seen how protective he is of Ryan. She just didn't realize he was equally protective of her. She's kind of flattered, actually, so she refrains from pointing out that she doesn't require him to keep her safe from Castle's questionable wrath. "So where are we on motive?"

"We're not really anywhere on anything yet. We only just found out about the case. Ryan and I are about to head over to the TV station and talk to the crew. "

"Okay. What about-"

"Detective." She looks up to see Montgomery poke his head out of his office and crook his finger at her.

"Hold that thought." She goes into the captain's office and closes the door behind her, half expecting to get reamed for pulling that stupid prank. "Sir?"

"I took the liberty of contacting 1PP on your behalf." Montgomery says, passing her a sheet of paper.

She scans it with increasing disbelief. "This is an approval for a leave of absence..."

"Very astute." Montgomery says dryly.

"Sir... it's for family only."

"Then I'm sure you'll be glad to call the police commissioner and explain all about how I lied to him." He says it like a challenge, but she's adept at figuring out what he's not saying, In this case, it's that he's willing to accept any fallout that might come from deceiving the department. She doesn't get why he'd make an offer like that until he continues. "Bring him back to us."

"I will Roy." She promises, and it's with a bittersweet feeling that she makes a pit stop at the break room on her way to the elevator. He's gotten her the full 12 weeks of leave, and she loves her job with the kind of dedication that most people never experience, but it will still be here when she returns.

Castle will be too.

She's barely been gone for an hour by the time she returns to the loft, laden down with her gift and the package that Eduardo passed to her at the door. Castle has moved to the couch and she stops just inside, watching his remote control rock crawler wandering in messy circles and meandering lines. She imagines it's not quite what his physical therapist meant by exercising his hands to improve his dexterity, but whatever works. It slows to a stop and she realizes that he's watching her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Why?" _I thought you were at the precinct. Why are you back already?_

She summarizes her conversation with Montgomery as she settles in on the other side of his couch and he goes back to his task, maneuvering the tiny car between chair legs and bumping into most of them. "I brought you a present. Try not to break this one." She tells him eventually, and sets the replacement cup on the coffee table, the handle turned so he can see the NYPD shield.

The whir of the crawler dies and he stares at the mug for almost a full minute before he repeats his question, but this time it's bitter and hopeless. "Why?"

"Because..." She searches for the right words, which she's become all too familiar with of late. "Because you don't believe you're going to be able to go back, and because Mann's killer would have walked if not for you." He doesn't look convinced. "It may not seem like much to you, but you know what it means to me." She points out, which seems to mollify him. He knows better than anyone how she feels about people getting away with murder. He'd written an entire book about it.

Finally, he nods and smiles. This isn't that fake-grin she's seen him wearing around his family. It's the genuine article, and something squeezes around her heart. "Lan-ie." He says, slowly. "Lan-ie... why... guilt?"

It takes her a minute to figure out what he's asking, and then she remembers the conversation she'd had with the ME this morning. Just because you feel guilty... This is it, she realizes; The Literal Moment of Truth. They're alone and she cal tell hi, try to make him understand. I'm so sorry Castle. It was only supposed to be a joke. I never meant for this to happen. He's alone and attentive and she can finally release the guilt that's been eating away at her all week.

Except...

Javi was right. Telling him is only going to hurt, only going to make it that much harder for him to get over this. She'll tell him. She has to tell him. Just... when he's a bit better. Right now, he doesn't truly believe he'll ever have his life back. He needs her support right now, not her guilt.

So, hating herself, she casts around wildly for a believable excuse. "You're a civilian, Castle, and since you're with me, that makes it my job to keep you safe, and instead..." She sighs, runs a hand through her hair. _Instead, I hurt you._

"Kate." He says, and she peers at him from underneath her disheveled bangs. "I... will do... this." There's so much determination in his voice, and she thinks that for the first time, he believes he has a chance.

She just wishes he wasn't doing it to comfort her. It makes lying to him that much more unforgivable. "I know, Castle."

One day at the precinct when he had shown up and found them doing paperwork on their most recent case. It had been a nasty affair where their vic had discovered that her wealthy husband was having an affair, and her mother-in-law had killed her to protect her son from losing half the family fortune thanks to a particularly vicious prenup.

Castle had breezed into the 12th, spotted them doing paperwork, and sank into his chair, passing Beckett her coffee. "I knew it was the mother-in-law." He had announced.

"And the nanny, the husband, the pool boy..." Beckett listed, not bothering too look up from her work.

"Yes, but do you know what 'mother-in-law' anagrams to?" He'd hissed, like anagrams worked in place of evidence.

"Do you know what 'go away' anagrams to?" She'd responded.

Ryan had been the one to ask the inevitable. "What?"

"A woman Hitler." Castle said proudly, much to the amusement of her partners.

Again, Ryan had been the one to ask. "What does my name become?"

Castle had considered, mouthing words as he pieced it together. "In Knavery." He decided.

Javi had snorted. "Nice Bro."

"Hey, your name becomes 'I so pejorative.'" Castle just didn't know when to quit. This time it was Ryan's turn to grin.

"Sounds about right." Kevin teased. "What about you, Castle?"

"I myself anagram to 'Character's lid'" The writer said proudly. "Or 'Childcare arts,' which also fits me pretty well. Just ask Alexis."

She hadn't been able to resist. "His name also becomes 'A trash circled.'"

He'd given her a look that promised retaliation and then it became annoyed and flowed smoothly into something that she could only categorize as awe. "Huh..."

"What?" She'd asked despite herself.

"Nothing. 'Kate Beckett' doesn't anagram to anything but Kate Beckett. I've... never seen that before."

"Oh come on, Castle. It can't be that rare."

He'd given her a look like he wasn't buying it. "My mother's name anagrams to 'Gathers armor, ham garroters,' and my personal favorite 'hear Grams rot' but I don't tell Alexis about that one. Speaking of Alexis, her name becomes 'Celestial sax, Lexical asset,' and 'Sex cat allies.'" She'd chuckled in spite of herself when he'd stopped to consider what he'd just said and shuddered. "Gross. That's my daughter. My point is, Beckett, _everyone's_ name anagrams to something. Except yours, apparently."

"So?"

"So," He'd given her that soft kind of smile that she saw on the rare occasions that he wasn't acting like a rich asshole, the kind that made her think that just maybe, Castle was the kind of man who was worth being around. "it's just another thing that makes you extraordinary."

That's how they end up on the floor of his loft three hours later, a Scrabble board on the coffee table between them. She could let him win, give him this small victory... or she could play 'quickly' for a double word score for 50 points and trounce him as soundly as she would if he weren't struggling to hold on to his letters.

Despite the struggle, he's in a good mood. He gives her a cocky grin.

She plays 'quickly' and watches as he stares at the board in disbelief. "Better luck next time, Castle."

"Rematch." He growls, so shocked that he doesn't notice that this is the first time he's managed a multisyllabic word without stuttering over it.

She does.


End file.
